


Sublimation

by deianaera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Non-Consensual, Ron Weasley Bashing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deianaera/pseuds/deianaera
Summary: When Ron lays the groundwork to blame their divorce on Hermione being frigid, Hermione decides to demonstrate just how wrong he is. Inspired by Advice to a New Husband by tonksinger, which I highly recommend you read. SS/HG, RW/HG mentioned, SS/HG/RW if looked at sideways, dub-con/non-con, Ron-bashing, spanking, exhibitionism, voyeurism





	Sublimation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Advice to a New Husband](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/425591) by tonksinger. 



> Insert standard disclaimer here: If you recognize it, I don’t own it.

Ron struggled against the binding holding his limbs firmly in place against the hotel room wall. The thick cotton wad in his mouth prevented anything more meaningful than grunts, let alone the magic required to free him. He stared hatefully at his estranged wife seated on the bed before him. Hermione, prim and proper in a skirt and blouse, her knees pressed together properly, her feet still shod in simple navy shoes, held her wand loosely in her hand, its point aimed idly at him. It was torture to listen to her as she droned on in her most condescending tones.

“Ronald, did you think I didn’t know you were following me? Really? After all the hours I spent working with you and Harry to drill stealth and tracking when you were still trying to become an Auror? I’m almost as disappointed in you for that as I am for your efforts to air your dissatisfaction with our marriage in public.”

Her brown eyes stared at him, the look she reserved for idiots. And him. He glared back.

“Of course, when Luna heard your accusations, she contacted me for a rebuttal. And I evaded all those…paparazzo…who were trying to catch me to support your accusations. In case you were curious, Severus and I haven’t seen each other for six months. Not since you convinced me you wanted us to try to give our marriage a real chance. But,” Hermione snarled, “that didn’t stop you, did it? And, unlike you, I have names, dates, and witnesses. When we dissolve our marriage – and we will – we’ll do it on _my_ terms, not yours.”

A quiet rap on the door stopped Hermione’s speech and Ron nearly sagged with relief. Then she opened the door to admit her supposedly former lover. Rather than a passionate embrace, the couple simply embraced, holding each other tightly. The extended moment ate at his nerves until he began to grunt against the gag and thrash against the wall and his bindings. Hermione turned in Snape’s arms, his long arms wrapping around her just under her breasts. Hermione looked at him with exasperation; Snape looked at him with amusement. He began to thrash harder.

“You didn’t think to silence or petrify him, my dear?” Snape asked her, murmuring the question into her ear.

Hermione looked up at him with a grin. “Oh, I thought about it. But, I wanted to make sure he suffers.” She slipped free of his grip and gestured at the bed. “Why don’t you get comfortable while I finish negotiating my divorce with Ronald here?”

Snape smirked at Hermione and took a seat in the guest chair in the small room. Hermione resumed her seat on the edge of the bed, facing Ron, and continued. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, divorce. You, of course, made three terrible mistakes in this process. First of all, our marriage wasn’t built on love; it was primarily political. But I never would have married you just for politics. I thought, as friends, we could be open and honest and have a good partnership, even if our hearts weren’t in it. If you had fallen in love with your latest girlfriend, Penelope?” Hermione asked, with a look at Snape.

“Phillipa,” he replied.

“Ah, Phillipa. Thank you, Severus. Anyway, if you had fallen in love with her and told me so, I would have agreed to an amicable divorce. After all, we were friends and I wanted you to be happy. But, no. You couldn’t have that. You couldn’t have a divorce where there was no fault. I had to be the villain. So, mistake one. Mistake two is filing for divorce by claiming you have cause, citing my frigidity and refusal to conceive. We’ll deal with that in a bit. Mistake number three, Ronald, is attempting to take your case public.

“I was your friend. I am your wife. And though we didn’t marry for love, I ended my relationship with the man I do love when you requested that we give our marriage a ‘fair shake’. You repaid my friendship, my efforts, with continued affairs and attempted to slander me in both the press and the courts. Before we leave today, I intend to address all three of the errors you have made. You will withdraw your original petition and instead, we will file a request to end our marriage with no fault. We will issue a single public statement regarding the ending of our marriage, which I will write. We will split our assets according to our household contribution. If you do not agree, I have not only the evidence I need to make this divorce very, very nasty, I will also provide all the evidence to every single reporter who asks me for an interview.

“Nod if you agree, Ronald.”

Ron stared at her with rage, his hands squeezing and flexing into fists. If he was free right now, if he had his wand, he would hex her into pieces. How dare she dictate terms to him? But with Snape watching, he knew there was no way he would get to her in time. He snapped his head down and up, a reluctant nod.

“Good. Now, before we sign the papers, I’d like to take this opportunity to address your very public complaints about me sexually. You referred to me as frigid and ‘like bedding an icicle,’ I believe. Neither of those statements is true. For someone who fucked around on his marriage as much as you did, I am amazed at the lack of skill you possess. It’s not that I don’t like sex. I don’t like sex with _you_. You slobber like a dog when you kiss me, you grope and grab me like my breasts are squeeze toys, and you fuck without any consideration for me whatsoever. Plus, you sweat, and I don’t think you even know what foreplay means. There is nothing, nothing, nothing about sex with you that I enjoy.

“But I do like sex. And Severus is kind enough to help me demonstrate to you that I am not frigid. I suggest that you pay attention. Phillipa or Penelope or Paula or whoever might appreciate it if you learn something today. Severus?”

Snape rose from the chair and stood next to Hermione and looked at Ron. Ron tried to glare back but Hermione’s vicious attack on his skills as a lover left him reeling. None of his girlfriends had ever complained, but her description made it sound like he was terrible in bed. His attention was on his ego and not his soon to be ex-wife or her lover until he heard Hermione say, “niotho san emena.”

The jet of deep purple sunk into his chest and made him feel warm and oddly heavy. He felt the weight of hair pinned in place pulling at his skull, the irritating press of padded wire against his underarm, the pain in the balls of his feet from shoes that shoved him up slightly on his toes. Before he could figure out what Hermione had just done, he felt a deep thrum of arousal in his groin, far deeper than normal. Fingers delicately brushed over his arms, teasing skin under silken fabric. He began to groan against the gag, trying in vain to ask what Hermione had done as the sensation of fingers on his body mirrored Snape’s actions on Hermione.

Meanwhile, Hermione tipped her head back and sighed appreciatively. Snape lowered his head to her ear and the puff of breath against her earlobe made them both groan. Then Snape’s hand slid up to caress the nape of her neck and stroke the pins from her hair. Ron shuddered at the tactile pleasure Hermione derived and he experienced from the stroking fingers and the release of hair. Snape gripped her hair more firmly, holding her head in place. The action should have made him feel fear if he was feeling what Hermione was, but instead, Ron felt a slippery arousal at the clench that was just this side of painful. Then Snape’s whispered words slid into his ear as clearly as if they’d been spoken to him and not her.

“I have missed you, my wanton little slut. For six months, two weeks, three days, fifteen hours, and nineteen minutes, I have missed you, I have longed for you. I have burned for you. My fist is no substitute for the delightful pleasures of your sweet mouth or your tight, wet, cunt. And I will have both before we leave this room today. But, you, you naughty, needy girl, will be punished for abandoning me for this pustule. You know that, right? You knew when you called me here today that I would take retribution for your abandonment,” Severus hissed.

Ron recoiled at the words even as he marveled at how they made him feel. He could feel his nipples tighten in arousal, his thighs yearned to rub together to ease the deep ache inside him even as his cock hardened and pressed against his pants. He began to breathe more heavily. Despite his rational mind telling him to close his eyes, look away from the spectacle of Hermione and _Snape_ , his growing arousal was compelling him to watch.

Hermione whimpered and whispered, “Yes.”

“Say the words, my dear. Especially since you’ve invited the imbecile to witness this moment. Let us make sure it is perfectly clear that you want this, that you want _me_.”

“I want you, Severus. Please, please, touch me, kiss me, punish me, fuck me!” Hermione cried.

Ron’s view was obscured by Snape’s back as he kissed Hermione. He felt the kiss on his lips, the former professor’s lips moving against his, the man’s tongue delving into his mouth, stroking his own tongue, coaxing it to move. The press of hips against his belly, complete with an aroused prick, made him want to groan. His hips flexed forward in his restraints.

Long-fingered hands caressed his body, at first over clothing, then under. A spark of excitement sizzled along his nerves as he felt Hermione’s blouse slip free of her waistband and those dexterous fingers touched skin. He could feel Snape’s calloused touch on curves that he did not possess. The conflicting sensory input – bound wrist and ankle to plaster in his flesh, ever-growing female arousal overwhelming his mind - was driving him mad. He had no desire to be a woman, no desire for men let alone the greasy bat now possessing his wife, but it was all he could do not to whimper and beg for more.

He could feel the cooling air on his skin as Severus removed Hermione’s blouse then her skirt. The ache in his groin, the need to be filled merged with the need to fill, to thrust, to fuck and spend himself, so much so that he did groan when he felt her bra fall away, breasts exposed and nipples hard and aching. Both Snape and Hermione stopped to look at him. A shared glance and he felt the odd tightness in this throat indicating he had been silenced. Ron was oddly grateful for it.

The couple returned their focus to one another, ignoring him once more. The fire that had been building in him had been banked by his interruption, but with a violent ripping and lines of fire against his hips and the crease of his thighs, he felt her panties – Hermione’s panties – removed from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the ruined fabric flutter to the floor. Arousal spiked in him again and Hermione moaned.

Another kiss plundered his empty mouth by proxy and a trickle of shame – his own – joined the tide of emotions swirling through him. No woman he had ever kissed had reacted to him as Hermione felt with Snape. The idea that she – that they – could be right was horrifying. He wanted to close his eyes to what he was seeing, but that only enhanced what he was feeling. So, he watched.

Snape had maneuvered Hermione over his lap now and fear twined with need in his gut. He could feel the nap of Snape’s trousers on his skin as he settled Hermione. “Punishment first, my dear, then pleasure.” A sweep of his hand along the curve of her exposed buttocks made Ron’s hips jerk away from the contact. Hermione, on the other hand, pressed into the caress.

The first slap was more noise than pain. The sound was almost too large for the room but barely stung his flesh. The strike drew a soft noise from Hermione. Another caress to the soothe the sting, then another strike. This one was on the opposite cheek of the first but hurt just a bit more. This time there was no caress, no soothing before the third strike, right on top of the first one. Now it began to hurt. Hermione gasped as she was struck, tears welling in her eyes. The moisture stung his own as every blow did. Likewise, he could feel the fear abating in him and an odd, sensuous, soothing began to replace it. He felt not only the stinging pain of each slap of Snape’s hand on Hermione’s backside but also the arousal it brought and the gratitude he felt toward Snape for doing this. Part of him yearned for more even as instinct compelled him to flinch away from the pain and desire made him lean into the strike. His hips, limited by his bindings, began to echo Hermione’s movements across Snape’s lap.

He could feel the burning heat sinking into his skin and a wrong wetness at his groin. His cock was rock hard and leaking, but this felt like his balls were as well. Soundlessly, he let his mouth open and his hips bucked wildly between pain and pleasure. He knew he was still bound to a wall, still clothed, still _male_ , but he could feel Hermione’s orgasm boiling in his guts.

With a last flurry of strikes, Severus growled, “You. Will. Never. Leave. Me. Again!” Each word punctuated by a slap against her skin and then his fingers plunged in between her legs. Ron tried to scream and flinch as he felt Snape’s fingers penetrate Hermione, but the silencing spell kept him mute. Even if he had been able to cry out at the impossible intrusion, it would have been impossible as he heard Hermione come with a wail.

Her orgasm didn’t feel like his. It wasn’t a moment of bliss, but an undulating wave of ecstasy that removed all though from his head. He sagged against the magic binding him to the wall, exhausted and with soaked pants. Still, Hermione’s spell held him in its thrall as her lust burned in his skin as they both watched Snape suck his fingers clean. He could feel his cock harden again the couple kissed, tongues dueling. Small murmurs and moans echoed as he watched Hermione begin to strip Snape. Her excitement at undoing button after button filled him and confused him. The sensual thrill she felt as she found skin made him shudder.

Nevertheless, he was fascinated to watch her as she straddled a now-naked Snape (and that was a sight he promised himself he would obliviate later) and began to lick and nip and suckle at him. Her passion – the fire she brought to so many fights and that had been so absent from their marital bed – was evident. As his sadistic wife worked her way down Snape’s body, her delight at tasting and teasing her lover made Ron squirm against the wall. The male scent that she greedily inhaled lit a soft pleasure in her – and him. The tang of Snape’s skin was on his tongue and he wanted to find it repulsive but couldn’t quite manage as Hermione found it enjoyable.

He could feel the hairs on Snape’s legs against the inside of his thighs and began to thrash against his bonds anew. Never, not once, had he desired to suck another man’s cock. His efforts did nothing to spare him the sensation of the spongy head in his mouth, the careful curl of lips over teeth, the feeling of saliva pooling along his gums.

Ron wished he was not silenced now so he could scream the roof down.

Hermione, who only once had sucked on his cock – and stopped angrily as soon as he tried to encourage her to take him deeper into her mouth – was evidently delighting in the act now.  Her arousal was building anew, the slippery sensation building again between his legs. Her hands caressed the man’s balls, weighing them in her hand, caressing the fuzzy skin. The witch’s tongue traced the underside of the head, making Snape groan softly. Her flash of pride went through him and he sagged in resignation against his bindings. Since their first kiss, he knew he wasn’t a factor in Hermione’s thoughts. She hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t paid attention to him. Her entire awareness was focused on her lover.

The lover she was now gracing with her mouth. The feel of thick shaft filled his mouth, made Ron open his jaw to accommodate the phantom mass. His own cheeks hollowed as Hermione began to work in earnest, sliding her lips and tongue up and down Snape’s cock. Her hand wrapped around the base now, stroking in tandem with her mouth, working the entire shaft. The hot, velvety skin seared his palm. A twitch of determination and a deep breath was the only warning he had when Hermione took as much of Snape into her mouth as she could. His throat spasmed as hers did as she choked on his length. His fear was overridden by the throb of arousal in her.

Just as he was beginning to become light-headed from her lack of oxygen, Snape pulled her gently up. Her mouth released his cock with a soft pop. Ron panted as she did until Snape dragged her up his body for a rough kiss. Moaning, Hermione went lax with a warm satisfaction. The hands running over Hermione’s naked skin teased him. Even the rough palming of his reddened buttocks made him harder and needier, concentrated that odd ache in his low belly. Hermione’s arousal made her squirm meaningfully against Snape. He grabbed her hips hard enough to make Ron fear for bruises on his skin and murmured to her, “On your hands and knees, love.”

Ron didn’t need to feel her arousal spike anew, he really didn’t. Merlin, he could even feel the rough weave of the bed cover on his knees as his wife scrambled on to the bed in eager compliance to Snape. Once again, phantom hands were on his hips, at once hinged and straight. Snape’s hips pressed against his bruised backside and Hermione’s want made him stifle a whimper. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he felt himself stretch in a place he didn’t have to accommodate Snape’s prick inside him…inside Hermione. He opened his mouth in a wordless scream. It was pain and pleasure and more: it was fulfilling, like a key in a lock. Even as wet as he, she, was, it stung, Snape’s hot length inching its way inside. His walls stretched to accommodate him, and that same stinging stretch made his blood sing with the glory of it. He felt whole, complete as Snape finally finished entering her.

Snape bent over Hermione’s kneeling form, and whispered, “How I have missed you, my darling girl.”

The way those words made Ron feel was indescribable. A riot of emotions flowed through him and he could not be sure which were his and which were hers. There could not be love and contentment, right? Where was his hate, his disgust?

Crooked teeth scraped along his neck and shoulder, eliciting a strangled, “Please,” from Hermione.

“As you wish, my dear,” Snape murmured, rising to kneel fully behind her.

He began to thrust in a steady, metronomic rhythm that excited and frustrated in turns. Ron’s hips moved back and forth in time Hermione’s, who was meeting Snape’s every thrust. He and she wanted him to move faster, thrust harder and deeper. As he bucked against the wall and phantoms, Hermione cried for more.

“Oh, my wanton little slut, are you sure?” Snape whispered in her ear.

He bit down on her shoulder and the way that made Ron feel was beyond his vocabulary; it was not beyond Hermione’s. “Yes! Please, fuck me, make me come!” she keened.

Without letting of her shoulder, Snape gripped her hips and began to fuck her in earnest. His hips snapped bruisingly hard into hers, filling her completely. Ron could feel every thrust impacting on something inside him, causing pain and pleasure. He could also feel phantom drops of sweat on his back. His skin crawled at the sensation of _Snape sweat_ on his skin, even by proxy. Yet that disgust was washed away as Hermione’s pleasure began to peak. Ron was subsumed by a full body twitch, a need to drown in the moment and flee from it all at once. He felt his hand snake between his legs to stroke his clit and teeth bite deeply into his flesh and he was lost in her sensations.

He hung limply in his bonds as the wave receded, dazed and lost. It was almost too much work to puzzle through the warm murmuring in his ear as nonsense words of lust and love were whispered to Hermione by her lover. All too soon, it ended with Snape thrusting erratically and coming with a roar. The wet sensation of ejaculate inside Ron after all that was enough to rouse him from his post-orgasmic stupor as the couple collapsed to the bed apart enough to allow their flesh to cool while close enough to show affection.

Despite the languor in his limbs, Ron rapped his feet and hands against the wall loud enough to gain the couple’s attention.

With a sigh, Hermione rose from the bed and gathered her wand and Snape’s. She handed him his wand as she used hers to end the spell that had bound her senses to his. Ron felt bereft as she left him in his own skin, deeply aware now of the clammy sensation in his pants, the chapped and cracked state of his lips from the gag, and the bruises where he’d fought against the phantom bonds. Still naked, she resumed her seat on the edge of the bed, her posture as prim and proper as it had been before she and Snape had fucked in front of him. Behind her, Snape propped himself up on the bed, a smug smirk on his face.

“I hope this demonstration has been educational for you, Ronald. Now, are you willing to sign the papers?”

Ron nodded slightly, wincing as his head moved; he’d hit his head against the wall too many times this afternoon.

“Good,” Hermione said, a smug grin on her own face as she retrieved her briefcase and withdrew the roll of parchment for him. She placed it on the room’s desk along with an inked quill. With one more glance at Ron to ensure his cooperation, she undid the enchantment holding him to the wall. Ron slid to the floor in a graceless lump, eliciting a snort from Snape, who rose from the bed and began to dress. Hermione did so as well, sparing her lover an exasperated sigh as she spotted her ruined underwear.

Both kept one eye on Ron, who managed to undo the gag from his mouth and was working his jaw carefully. Slowly, he convinced his stiff limbs to propel him to the desk and crawled up the chair to sit in it. His hips screamed, and he was made aware again of the mess he’d made while bound and under Hermione's spell. He flushed red. Mulishly, he read the parchment Hermione provided before signing it. He could feel her hovering behind him as he read.

The moment he finished scrawling his name, the parchment rolled itself up and disappeared with a ‘pop’. Hermione plucked the quill from his hand and placed it back in her bag.

“Well, that’s done,” she said quietly. “Goodbye, Ronald.”

He turned enough in the chair to watch Hermione and Snape leave, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> niotho san emena, or rather, niótho san eména, is Greek for ‘feel like me’


End file.
